Ed Eats

Sciantusi
2, Milner Street,
Sliema
Tel: 2131 3181

Food: 8/10  
Service: 7/10
Ambience: 8/10
Value: 8/10
Overall: 8/10

The first “All the best, jekk ma narakx” has happened. More than fairy lights and decorated trees and the slim variety of Christmas songs on everyone’s playlist, this phrase gets us warmed up for the gluttony period.

We’ll be drinking tipple that we’d snob all year, eating food we’d never bother about for 11 months and warming up our hangover gear for the month. For many businesses, this month accounts for half the year’s turnover. To me that means they ought to close down for eleven months, live frugally and happily, and then work like crazy for thirty days. But there is a narrative we’re obliged to follow so off to work we go, Christmas or not.

I look forward to this month, despite the occasional groan that escapes me when faced with the more garish displays of Yuletide poor taste. There is no way, for instance, that a hollow Santa Claus costume the size of a small dog can hang from someone’s balcony and cheer me up.

But it is a time for meeting people I’d like to meet more often, an excuse to put more effort into the food we prepare, and a good long while to dream up resolutions to neglect by the second week of January. So on balance, you’re in for a good month. Unless you’re a turkey, of course.

In the run-up to richer food I like to keep things simple. This isn’t a dietary consideration. My intake of food has me destined to a shorter life than I’m meant to have and I’m prepared to trade longevity for excitement. It is more of a palate cleanse.

When eating a large variety of food at a single sitting it is wise to approach your food in increasing order of complexity. This way you haven’t overwhelmed your palate early on and can enjoy the flavours as they ramp up.

Now I consider this month to be one, long meal. So I apply the principle daily, working my way towards heaving tables and bulging plates in a systematic and orderly manner. I cheat occasionally. One would not want one’s olfactory to lull itself into slovenliness. I’ve just cooked dinner and it was one hell of an exception to my approach but it was all done with the best of intentions. That third circle of hell isn’t going to populate itself.

Sticking with my plan, though, was a foray into the wonderful world of Italian food at a brand new trattoria/pizzeria (and by their own admission ‘burgeria’) called Sciantusi in Sliema. It occupies the restaurant that’s ensconced within the backside of the Preluna hotel and that has changed hands more times than I care to remember.

This iteration is attractively designed and cleverly laid out to accommodate plenty of tables without having them lined up like a soldiers’ mess hall. There’s a pretty red bar, a little wine cellar, and a bright, open kitchen. TVs everywhere were showing the weekend’s Italian football but they were mercifully turned down to a low volume. I’d rather be there during the week when this isn’t happening but they really are not annoying.

The combination of ingredients is simply sensational and I just couldn’t tear myself away from cramming it into my mouth

Tables are simply furnished and include that oddity one find across Sicily where your cutlery and napkin are wrapped in a little paper bag that says Buon Appetito in garish red type. This touch, presumably intended to put our mind at rest about the hygiene of our cutlery, also serves to categorise the price bracket into one that is bound to offer good value.

The man who came by to bring menus and in general help out throughout our time at Sciantusi turned out to be quite the charming and cheerful kind of person. He was Italian and had learned a few phrases in Maltese, intended to make us feel at home. He even asked us to translate a couple of words he could add to his arsenal.

I find this refreshing. There are too many Italian restaurants staffed by people who presume one can speak their language, and this creates discomfort amongst those of us who haven’t mastered the language. Depending on your age, this might sound like an oddity, yet there is a swathe of society that wasn’t limited to Italian TV and, as a result, have little need for fluency.

The menus go from starters to salads and pasta dishes, have a small section of interesting burgers, and then go onto a variety of pizzas that are themselves subcategorised into the classics and the result of their own imagination.

So far all sounds pretty normal for yet another Sicilian or Southern Italian restaurant. But digg-ing a little deeper reveals that Sciantusi have dragged more than the typical ingredients across the Mediterranean.

There’s a number of pizzas that include the rather robust donkey mortadella and even a donkey burger. They’ve included sausage from one of my favourite pigs, the black beauty of the Iblei mountains. And this is part of what makes Sicily so special – the ability to have pockets of gastronomic specialities that are almost entirely unique.

I’d only ever eaten donkey in the form of a stew and was intrigued by the prospect of having a burger patty made with the intensely flavoured meat. It is tough, and I liken it to a very heady and particularly flavoured veal, so I wouldn’t order a steak but a stew or a burger work just fine.

Just when I’d made up my mind, I spied a pizza that I just had to try. It is called the Donna Concetta and is made with the crust from buffalo mozzarella, San Marzano tomoatoes, buffalo ricotta, parmeggiano, and basil. It sounded like someone had taken a Margherita and then tumbled down a rabbit hole of enthusiasm. So I gently coerced the better half into ordering the donkey burger without sounding like I was dangling a carrot on a stick.

I was also tempted by the double-malted Moretti and this messes with the ability to order wine. With beer on the up and up, a solution to this quandary needs be found, one that goes beyond house wine by the glass. Luckily, the house wine at a place like this tends to be pretty decent.

Our food took about 15 minutes, which is about right for the time it takes to cook a thick burger patty. I quickly dug into the pizza. It is not a large portion and is made with that thin, Neapolitan style, sourdough base.

The combination of ingredients is simply sensational and I just couldn’t tear myself away from cramming it into my mouth. The dough is light, the combination of dairy is creamy and delicately flavoured, and the excellent olive oil adds a tart, almost acerbic zest. In between the extremes lie the fresh tomatoes. This is just what I needed to get December off to a gentle start.

The donkey burger is all the way on the other end of the spectrum. If you’re not prepared for the intensity and peculiarity of the flavour it will take you by surprise, but it is something everyone should try at least once. It isn’t a well assembled burger – there is an art to stacking a burger that seems to be terribly elusive – and the corn bread bun fell to bits, spilling sautéed mushrooms and bits of lovely mozzarella as it did. The chips were simply awful, but they’d have languished on the side of the plate regardless.

When I was done, I was tempted to order another pizza and started summoning the internal strength it takes not to do so. Luckily, I was aided in this quest by our man who turned up with a dessert menu and suggested the Cannolo Siciliano. Candied orange rind on sweetened ricotta inside a crumbly cannolo shell formed a worthy substitute for a second pizza.

We paid €35 for the lot, a price that had me tempted to start the cycle all over again, eating pizza and cannolo followed by pizza and cannolo until closing time. But it is December and plenty of food is coming. So I just planned to return as often as possible, slowly eating my way through the more interesting nooks of Sciantusi’s menu, possibly hiding in a corner until all the all the best’s have been said.

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